


The Birthday Massacre

by GallicGalaxy



Category: Original Work, The Birthday Massacre (Band)
Genre: Did she agree to it or not care?, Dubious Consent, Everything is so vague how do I tag this, F/M, Horror, How old is she?, Implied Murder Kink, Implied Sexual Content, Possibly Underage Sex?, Song: Happy Birthday, Was that sex?, dubious everything, what the fuck is wrong with ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallicGalaxy/pseuds/GallicGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One listener's take on the gruesome events of the birthday massacre as depicted in 'Happy Birthday'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Massacre

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I finally finished it!! Well I was really inspired by the song Happy Birthday by The Birthday Massacre and I wanted to write about it bc the song is so vague and creepy, and it tells a fantastically creepy tale, but this little story is still vague and creepy.  
> These characters actually have names and complex backstories that are not at all hinted at in this story and that pained me a lot to do. I might write more about them.

Before the party, he pulled her hair up into pigtails. She watched it happen in her reflection, in the big tall mirror in the corner room. It took him only a moment and he was done, and her hair looked quite beautiful.

“There we are, Lizzie, now you're just about ready.” He told her, as she stared into the mirror at herself and him behind her.

“The party is starting soon?” Lizzie asked in a meek and childish voice.

“Yes, yes.” He answered, patting her shoulder.

“And everything is ready?” Lizzie continued.

“Indeed, as long as you are ready.” He rumbled, like the thunder of a mountain storm.

“I am ready.” Lizzie answered, long-nailed fingers hanging at her sides like keys on a keyring.

“Ready, indeed.” He conceded. “You are wearing your black-and-white dress, I see.” Lizzie nodded.

“We match.” She declared. “Your vest is black and your shirt is white.” He laughed a deep laugh and nodded in the distance above her. At that moment, a few dull, patterned sounds echoed through the little house until they hit the ears of those upstairs. Lizzie turned her bright blue eyes towards the door, almost as though she had never heard such a sound before.

“I hear footsteps.” He chuckled. “That must be our guests. I will go down there and make sure everyone is there. Pick up your shoes, Lizzie, and you may come downstairs.” Then he strode out like a shadow while Lizzie went to her closet and opened the sliding wooden door. She leaned in, stepping through the bog of shoes on the floor, and found the pair she sought. She picked them up by their back straps and left the closet.

Lizzie opened her bedroom door and slid straight into the stairwell, walking silently down the steps with her heels in one hand. She paused only for a moment at the bottom of the stairs to slide her dainty feet into them.

Then her steps made noise. The sharp heels made them click on the wooden floor, which Lizzie did not like. But she put up with it.

Lizzie heard voices from the living room, and she heard another voice from inside her head. It was his voice, but also not his voice. He had a way of telling Lizzie what to do even when he was not around. _“The party is in the big room, Lizzie.”_ He said. _“Go out to the party.”_

Lizzie walked solemnly out of the hall and into the main room, where the people were. A girl she knew said, “Hi, Lizzie.” and Lizzie said hello back, but there was nothing behind it. She knew this girl from elsewhere, and in her house she was but a strange presence.

Lizzie listened to the chatter, the whispers, the murmur of humanity, which so rarely interrupted a house as small as the Little House. The girl who said hi to Lizzie was now talking to a girl who looked just like her in a different dress. _“Sisters, twin sisters.”_ She heard him say in her head.

“Such a shame it's raining.” Someone said.

“Where is he?” Another wondered.

“I haven't met some of these people yet.”

“Can we turn on the radio?”

The noise, the white noise, buzzed like static in Lizzie's ears. “Yes, go ahead, turn on the radio.” Lizzie offered sweetly, putting her best doll face on. “I will go check on him.” She added, wanting to leave. The guests just nodded like waves in a creek, bubbling and abating within moments. Guests. Ghosts. Guests. Ghosts.

Lizzie left the main room and trotted into the kitchen. Sure enough, he was there.

“Hello, Lizzie.” He greeted, his living voice again.

“Hello.” Lizzie murmured. “I think the guests are getting anxious.” She informed him, as echoing guitar music came in from the living room.

“They're playing our song.” He said jokingly, noticing as well that the radio had been turned on.

“Should I fetch the cake?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes, sweetie.” He said. “But don't forget the knife.” He added, drawing out a kitchen knife from his sleeve and presenting the handle to her. She took it delicately with a small, almost bashful nod. “You know where that goes?” He asked, and she nodded again. She lifted up the side of her dress, revealing pallid skin, and ever-so-delicately slid the knife down so that the handle caught on the top line of her underwear. The tip was pointed towards the floor, the blade facing backwards. She let her dress fall again, concealing the weapon completely.

Lizzie walked over to the fridge, pulling out a tray with a cold, untouched birthday cake lying on it. She walked delicately out into the living room, her heels on and her knife resting at her hip. The party guests smiled as she entered, backing away from the cloth-covered table that had been pushed to the center of the room. Lizzie smiled back as she slid among them and gently laid the cake down on the center of the table.

Lizzie busied herself with poking some sparkly little candles into the icing, as he emerged from the kitchen at last. The guests clapped, smiling silly smiles, and a few cheered. Lizzie's small shoulders tensed. Humans were so noisy. So noisy.

 _“Quiet, quiet.”_ He said, and Lizzie didn't even have to look over to know that he was speaking through her mind. _“Time will come.”_ Lizzie told him yes, yes. Time will come. Soon.

“Hey, it's the birthday boy!” Someone squeaked.

“Oh, is this all for me?” He said, brandishing his charisma. “You shouldn't have.” Lizzie smiled and backed away from the cake, looking only at him. Not at them.

Someone turned the radio off, and Lizzie began lighting the candles. He walked over and turned the lights down. Lizzie felt her heart start to race in the firelight, and she backed away from the table. He strode over, and a small voice that Lizzie did not realize was hers began singing. The others joined in, an eerie feminine chorus akin to angels.

Lizzie's eyes scanned the dark room as she sang, and she took a few steps back. _“Her.”_ He whispered, as Lizzie's eyes locked on the girl who'd said hello to her. Lizzie slid closer to her, further from the table, listening to her voice corrupt the air.

Then he leaned forward, his massive breath quelling the last light in the room. _“Stick it in the back of her head!”_ He shouted, and Lizzie pulled her skirt up in a moment, pulling out the kitchen knife. Her arm wasted not a second in its journey, the sharpened knife finding its mark in the back of the twin's skull. She made a sound like a scream before her weight fell limp on Lizzie's arm and she struggled to tear her knife out.

The lights came on with another chorus of screams, and Lizzie made a noise halfway between laughter and snarling. Her heart was racing, and she felt like she could fly. Her blood was hot and she needed to not waste it.

He cackled a madman's cackle and lunged at someone, wielding no weapon but his massive fists. Lizzie sprinted towards the entry hall where someone was desperately fighting with the doorknob, sweaty palms failing to find a grip. Lizzie slid up behind her and pulled her hair, swinging her knife forward and slicing her throat. She fell to the ground with a gurgling noise, and Lizzie leaned down and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight.” Lizzie hissed, and he repeated it in her head. When she turned around, he was there, and he was smashing two guests' skulls together repeatedly, even as they screeched and began to bleed profusely.

“Bleed. Bleed.” He murmured, writhing and panting as he bashed them in. Lizzie sprinted past him, knife down, and looked around for more. There was another under the table, trying to hide, sniveling.

Lizzie dashed for her. She tried to run, but Lizzie was too quick and too adept. She stabbed the girl's leg, and she wailed like an infant. Lizzie panted and growled, eyes wide, feeling the thrill of the chase and the thrill of the kill. She yanked the girl out by her party dress and sank her knife into the girl's spine, then up through her ribs and into her lungs. She coughed a flurry of blood before Lizzie left her twitching carcass there to bleed out.

He was stepping on another's face, stomping gleefully as blood came from her blackening nose and her shattering teeth. “Bleed!” He roared, laughing the same bubbling laugh that Lizzie felt rising in her chest. The girl wailed as he shattered her fragile young jaw with a well-placed kick.

Lizzie felt fire burn below her skirt as she watched him for a moment, panting in exhilaration as she sought more.

“Come out, come out wherever you are...” Lizzie sang quietly, her body shaking. She heard a girl scream and saw her run for the door, and Lizzie caught her by her long black hair. Flinging her to the floor, Lizzie straddled her legs and stabbed her in the stomach, dragging her knife through the layers of flesh and hearing her scream. As she struggled, blood came gushing from her wound and onto Lizzie's dress. _“Rip it out! Rip it out!”_ Lizzie jiggled her knife and sank her hand in, yanking out handfuls of squishy entrails as the girl twitched and leaked blood all over.

From behind came another, who tried to punch Lizzie in the back of her head. She was hyperventilating too loudly to sneak up on her, and Lizzie heard and turned her head around. Her hair was in pigtails and did not get in her way.

Lizzie leaped up at her, holding her jaw open and sawing her knife into the girl's lips. The girl tried to scream and struggle, but this just jammed Lizzie's knife into her tongue and gums. _“Kill her!”_ He screamed at Lizzie, and Lizzie uttered a wordless cry as she sank her knife into the girl's throat, rampantly slicing at her lips.

He was holding another down, her frail body stuffed between his legs, and his huge, strong hands wrapped around her tiny windpipe as her face turned as blue as the moonlight. He was panting and gnashing his teeth, thrashing her around occasionally, until he gave up and punched her repeatedly. She was already cyanotic as he punched her again and again, loosening her soft teeth.

Lizzie found another hiding beside the stairwell, shivering, her braids trembling like auburn leaves. She tried to run when she saw Lizzie, but Lizzie kicked her and knocked her back into the stairwell. She didn't scream, like the others, but rather, her eyes rolled back in her pale face and she fainted. “Happy birthday...” Lizzie stuttered, lifting her knife and sinking it through her small breast and into her beating heart.

Then Lizzie heard loud footsteps, and the feral adrenaline in her veins panicked. _“Run, Lizzie, run.”_ He whispered. Someone was chasing her quickly, and she ran. She ran up the stairs. She ran to her room, in the door, and glided to her bed, heels clicking all the way.

She felt a large hand on her bare shoulder, and she turned around to face him. Slaver was leaking from his lips, and he was panting, sharp teeth exposed and hot breath coming in huffs. He pushed Lizzie down on her bed, spreading blood from her dress onto the blankets. “You did good, Lizzie.” He panted, dripping slobber onto her skin.

 _“The video.”_ He hissed in her head. _“Don't forget the video.”_

“Did you get the video?” He asked, his legs around Lizzie's as he held her down.

“Yes. It's downstairs. The video is fine.” Lizzie replied. She looked down at her dress, which was now mostly red, as were his once-white sleeves. “We match, see?” She joked, and he nodded eagerly, pupils blown.

He gave Lizzie a wet kiss with his tongue, licking her mouth and panting and mumbling. He was excited. Parties made him excited.

So was she, her heart was pounding as he slid repeatedly against her and licked her neck, catching blood with his doglike tongue. She kept an eye on his large, sharp teeth.

“You did so good, Lizzie.” He murmured around his own frothing saliva. He jerked up her skirt, rolling it along her shallow ribcage, and his blood-soaked hands left marks on her thighs. “Yes, yes.” He mumbled, in her head or out.

“Yes, yes.” She repeated, rubbing herself against him. “I'm a murder tramp, birthday boy.” She told him, as he panted and gave her a loving headbutt. He was nearly crushing her much smaller body with his very large one, sniffing the adrenaline radiating off her.

Then he snapped. His head jerked up and he looked over his shoulder at the closet. “We have an interloper.” He growled, spattering drool from his grimacing mouth.

“An interloper?” Lizzie whispered, head spinning.

“Yes...” He muttered, pulling himself away from Lizzie. “An interloper. In the closet.” He stood upright, erect, and cast his burning eyes back at Lizzie. “And you know how we deal with interlopers?”

Lizzie nodded and stood up, her blood-soaked dress slowly and heavily falling back down and covering the smears on her thighs. She walked stiffly towards the closet, hearing her own rapid heartbeat thump in her ears, and opened the door numbly.

 _“Two of them are sisters. Sisters.”_ He whispered, his voice coming from the top vertebra in her neck. Sisters. Twin sisters. And she'd only killed one of them. The other one was huddled in the corner of the closet, scattered shoes pressed against her feet, her multicolored dress hanging limply around her hips. Her short black hair clung to her head, and her narrow silver eyes stared out into the nothingness as she tried to look invisible.

“There she is. She's the other twin.” Lizzie declared, as he slunk to peer over her shoulders. “Shall I take care of her?” Lizzie asked. The girl sobbed audibly, panic and realization rapidly eating away at her brain.

“Yes.” He choked. “Nice and slow, Lizzie.” Lizzie turned her head a little, immediately deterred by him snapping, _“Don't turn around!”_

“But I don't have my knife...” Lizzie mumbled.

“That's alright, Lizzie.” He hissed, trying to sound sweet through his fervent panting. “You don't need one. You can kill her with your bare hands...”

“I'm not as strong as you...” Lizzie said meekly.

“You will be fine. She is weak, you are strong. You can do it, Lizzie. Take all the time you need.” He babbled, licking his lips and snuffling loudly. “But wait...let me get the video first.” He ordered, taking off down the stairs as quickly as his long legs could take him.

“Lizzie, please.” The girl in the closet whispered. “Please...you know me, Lizzie. I've seen you in town. What's...what's come over you? What are you doing?” She sobbed in desperation. Lizzie stared at her coldly and silently.

“Be silent.” Lizzie hissed. “I'm going to kill you.”

“Lizzie, _please_.” The girl begged. “C-Come on...you don't really like him, do you? What was he _doing_ to you? Y-You can't...” With that, his loud footsteps rang along the stairwell, and he pushed back into the room carrying a video camera.

“Now, Lizzie!” He shouted. “Make me proud!” She heard him lick his lips angrily, and the cowering girl's eyes widened.

“Lizzie, he's-” She started, but Lizzie uttered a wrathful scream and kicked the girl about the jaw.

“Shut _up_ , you worm!” Lizzie hissed, swinging her arm and catching the girl's delicate cheek with her long fingernails. Lizzie jumped forward, seizing the girl by the neckline of her brightly-colored dress, and half-turned her head back as though seeking affirmation. He said nothing, just uttered labored panting, and Lizzie balled up a fist before striking the girl along the bridge of her nose. Black blood seeped from the twin's nostrils, and she uttered a meek whine, trying to pull herself out of Lizzie's grasp.

Lizzie was bigger than her, but not by a massive amount. She was, however, much sturdier than the twin, much less afraid, and also a more experienced fighter. Thus, Lizzie kept her hold on the other girl with relative ease. _“Kill her; kill her!”_ He shouted in her head. _“Kill her, kill her, killher, kill'er...”_ Lizzie grunted as a touch of bile-flavored panic rose up to the back of her throat, but she kept her composure, throwing the girl against the back wall and watching her try to scramble up as her nose turned an unhealthy amalgam of colors.

Lizzie kicked the twin, her heel colliding with the girl's chest and causing her to let out a pained squeal. “Go, Lizzie! Beat her! Bash her in!” He cackled. Fueled by his encouragement, Lizzie yanked the twin's short, dark hair, pulling on it until she felt strands snap between her fingers. The severed twin wailed in anguish, prompting Lizzie to wrap her other hand around the girl's throat and sink her nails in. Red blood gushed around their points as Lizzie's fingernails tore through the thin veil of her skin. She choked and tried to cry out, but was stifled by the slow crushing of her windpipe.

“Yesss, yehessss!” He wailed, drops of saliva dampening his collar. Lizzie threw the twin down again and assaulted her, fists and nails flying and landing wherever they chose. The symphonic chorus of flesh seemed to be augmented, layered even, as though there was someone else doing the same exact movements as her somewhere nearby. She ignored it, it was probably just her mind playing a trick.

The twin gradually lost her will to resist or even move. She might have been dead long before Lizzie thought about ending, but she was fueled by a vicious anger in her throat and could not run the risk of the twin getting up. Both of his voices raved at her, but she could hardly hear him.

Lizzie rose from her knees and looked down at the twin, bruised and battered, leaking blood from her nose and the scratches on her face, her skin rapidly discoloring to a seemingly unnatural array of strange colors as blood vessels burst within her flesh. The twin's eyes rolled, and her lungs convulsed in hope of breath, sending a fresh stream of blood from her nostrils. She opened her mouth, seemingly surprised and confused as to why she couldn't get enough air in her lungs, and with her panicked breaths, she uttered the word _“Monster.”_

That was it. Just a single word.

He screamed in rage and terror, so fiercely that Lizzie swore she felt drops of saliva land on her shoulders as his jaw opened. “Kill her now!” He ordered, his fury suddenly hugely augmented. “Kill that bitch! Kill her!” He snarled, like a semi-wild dog on the end of some invisible chain. The twin stared past Lizzie's intimidating figure, her blue eyes very glass as she stared directly at him behind her, her mouth twitching as though she was still trying to speak.

Lizzie dared to glance over her shoulder, and she saw him there. Standing. She barely looked at him before she realized that she was still wearing her party shoes, and all of a sudden they bothered her. She took one of them off, looking over the short, acute heel, and then the other. One she let fall to the floor, but the other she hung from her young fingers.

Lizzie twitched her hand a little and then gripped the front of her shoe, hefting it a few times to test its weight, before she stole a final glance at him. Then, holding her shoe tightly by the toe, she swung it in an arc and buried the heel into the twin's left eye socket. She convulsed madly, jaw hanging open, and Lizzie froze firmly in place. She wasn't quite sure what to do, so she began wiggling the heel a little, trying to dislodge it, and made the twin spasm a little.

“Yeehhheeesss!” He sniveled, some strange sounds echoing through the woodwork as he spoke. “That's it, Lizzie!” Lizzie shifted her heel and yanked it out, the twin's eye coming with it, and she breathed heavily.

The next thing Lizzie felt was his arms around her, and the slick slime of his spit on her shoulder, dripping over it and onto her neck. Her head spun for a moment as she was bowled over by his weight, and she was thrown into the wall. After that, all she really remembered was heat, so much heat, her whole body was way too warm, feverish even, and he carried her, laying her on her bed, and she curled up around him and stuck to his arms like a burr in a cat's fur.

“You're alright, Lizzie.” He murmured reassuringly. She stretched herself out, pulling her dress up to escape the unbelievable heat in her body. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked at him, murmuring softly as he sat on the bed beside her.

The party was over now. But they still had the video, as he sat the little camera on the nightstand beside Lizzie's bed. They would always have the video, and they would always be able to relive the party, the heat and the excitement, on late nights when Lizzie perched on his lap in the living room.

He smiled down at her, and she stared at the corner of his lip that didn't quite move with the rest of his face. She remembered being smaller and asking him about all those little ragged pale streaks on his face, and he said they were his stripes, and he'd earned them when he was about her age. She'd wanted some of her own, of course, but he'd told her that she should wait until she was older; he'd earned his when he was too young.

Lizzie flipped her legs off the bed, wanting to get out of her blood-soaked party dress. At least the infernal shoes were gone. She walked to the corner, near the door, and he followed her, with a stolen glance back at the mirror.

After the party, he took her pigtails out, and let hair back down.

 


End file.
